153 



GARDENS OLD AND NEW. 



of the mere, on 

 whose rippling surface 

 floated a little frigate 

 or other miniature 

 man-of-war. 



The poet fitted 

 up a corner of the 

 house for himself, and, 

 adjacent to the chapel, 

 his bedroom remains 

 almost as he left it. 

 But the story of his 

 life at Newstead must 

 not be told here. 

 They whisper that, 

 tor his profane revels, 

 he dug up forgotten 

 skulls from monastic 

 graves for the making 

 of drinking cups. 

 But, in other moods 

 and more often, that 

 " glorious remnant of 

 the Gothic pile " 

 with its ruined lane, 

 its cr\ pt, its great 

 hall, and its cloister 

 tilled him with won- 

 drous thoughts. 



"A mighty window, hollow in the centre, 



Shorn of its glass of thousand colourings, 

 Through which the deepeii'd glories once could enter, 



Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings. 

 Now yawns all desolate." 



It is, indeed, as we may see, a glorious fragment to this 

 day. The cloisters have a quaintness all their own. 



"Amidst the court n Gothic fountain play'd. 



Symmetrical, but deok'd with carvings quaint 

 Strange faces, like to men in m isquerade, 

 And here perhaps a monster, theie a saint. 1 ' 



The region in which Newstead lies is one ot ancient 

 forest; but many an oak of Sherwood had bowed beneath 

 the stroke, and the beautiful woods that grace Newstead 

 in these days were mostly planteJ by Colonel Wildman, 

 who followed the poet in possession, bringing the decaying 

 house to a condition of domestic charm it had not attained 



Cofrriglit. 



THE CLOISTERS. 



before, and carrying 

 on a great work in 

 beautifying the sur- 

 rounding estate. But 

 the final fascination 

 of Newstead has been 

 conferred upon it by 

 Mr. Webb, who, with 

 his daughters, is a 

 true lover of country 

 life, well versed in 

 gardening lore. In 

 such good hands has 

 Byron's abode, with 

 surroundings further 

 altered and adorned, 

 reached a state of 

 splendour which per- 

 haps he could not 

 have forecast. Yet 

 his poetical allusions 

 in " The Dream " are, 

 nevertheless, singu- 

 larly apt and beau- 

 tiful. There is a 

 tenderly g r a c e f u 1 

 reference to the 

 "gentle hill," on 

 which he said his last 



farewell to Miss Chaworth, a hill afterwards ruthlessly shorn 



by a strange hand of its " peculiar diadem of trees in circular 



array." 



It rises hard by the beautiful lake, to which fine lawns 



and grassy steeps descend gently from the southern side of 



Li/c. ' 



tree graces the slope, 

 writing his lines " To 

 of the water bv which 



the abbey, where many a r.oble 

 Looking on Lake Leman, Byron, 

 Augusta," bethought him tenderly 

 he had often lingered at home. 



" I did remind thee of our own dear lake 



By the old Hall, which may be mine no more. 

 Lemaii is fair; lr.it think not I forsake 



The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore. 

 Sad havoc time must with my memory make 

 Ivre that or thou can fade these eyes before." 



Many memories of Byron are treasured at Newstead. 

 Here, by the flower garden, is the oak he planted and 



. 



THE TERRACE ASCENTS. 



' Country Life." 



